


and the sun falls soft against your skin

by Phoenix_of_Athena



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Affection, Blow Jobs, Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Kissing, Hand Jobs, Intimacy, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Oral Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Tender Sex, Trust, warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21863461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_of_Athena/pseuds/Phoenix_of_Athena
Summary: Aziraphale’s eyes were soft, pale blue and lovely, scarce centimeters from his own, and his breath was a whisper across the demon’s lips.Crowley leaned into him again, breathlessly, gaily, heedlessly gratefully, to brush light feathered kisses over the angel’s plump cheek. Aziraphale laughed, and Crowley kissed the creases at his eyes as well. His hand trailed down the angel’s chest over soft, plush skin, to cup his hip.“Hey, Aziraphale,” he said, “I love you.”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 125





	and the sun falls soft against your skin

The sunlight was warm against Crowley’s skin as he lay with Aziraphale on top of the soft quilt bedcover. It slanted through the window and cast a golden glow about the room, turning Aziraphale’s curls into a halo of white and Crowley’s own into a shock of copper, clean and fresh and gleaming in the edge of his vision. 

Aziraphale brushed a soft caress over his bare shoulder, as gentle and warm as the sunlight itself, and Crowley didn’t try to hold back a smile, leaning in to press a kiss to the angel’s lips. 

Aziraphale’s eyes were soft, pale blue and lovely, scarce centimeters from his own, and his breath was a whisper across the demon’s lips.

Crowley leaned into him again, breathlessly, gaily, heedlessly gratefully, to brush light feathered kisses over the angel’s plump cheek. Aziraphale laughed, and Crowley kissed the creases at his eyes as well. His hand trailed down the angel’s chest over soft, plush skin, to cup his hip.

“Hey, Aziraphale,” he said, “I love you.”

Aziraphale’s face lit up the way it always did when Crowley said it.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice as soft and comfortable as his touch. Aziraphale’s hand had slid up Crowley’s shoulder to cradle his jaw, and his thumb traced light circles over the demon’s cheekbone.

Crowley hummed, low and content, and he slid his hand down to Aziraphale’s plush rear. The angel hummed.

“Crowley,” said Aziraphale, tilting his head slightly on the pillow, “I think I’m in the mood for you to touch me. Would you please, Dear?”

A chuckle burst itself from Crowley’s throat, and he felt his whole face crinkle in happiness with it.

“‘Course, Angel,” he said, and levered himself up on one elbow to follow Aziraphale forward as the angel shifted comfortably onto his back.

With one knee between Aziraphale’s, Crowley leaned forward again to pepper kisses like raindrops across the angel’s sun warmed skin. Aziraphale watched him with adoring eyes, propped up against the pillows. 

“Be gentle with me, Crowley?”

“Always,” Crowley said, pressing a kiss onto the angel’s plump stomach. His hand slipped up between Aziraphale’s legs to grasp his length, and the angel gave the softest of shuddering breaths, his cheeks slowly pinking in a flush that spread down his chest. Crowley stroked him slowly into hardness, and watched the minute fluctuations of the angel’s face: the fluttering of his eyes and the twitch of his cheek, and the way he bit his lip as Crowley dragged his thumb across the head of his erection.

“That good, Angel?” he asked, a smile in his voice as Aziraphale had to gasp to find his words.

“Very,” Aziraphale whimpered Crowley stroked him. He turned his head upon the pillow, his pale lashes catching momentarily in the light before his face turned soft and bright and somewhat unformed by the sun’s glow. Crowley’s gaze slipped down, then, to the sight of him fully hard in his hand, skin flushed pink and velvety soft beneath Crowley’s slick fingers. He swallowed hard, and bent to press a kiss to the tip of him, reveling in the way Aziraphale’s breath caught and the way his hands fisted in the worn, soft quilt.

Slowly, the demon parted his lips and slid down to take the length of him, his hands soft on Aziraphale’s trembling knees. When he looked up with bright gold eyes to meet Aziraphale’s, he found the blue nearly swallowed by dark pupils blown wide. Then he began to move, and as he watched, Aziraphale’s mouth fell slightly open, the angel’s eyes falling shut as he turned his face again into a fall of sun.

“Crowley.”

The name was a whisper; a caress; a thanks; a gift; for in saying it with such tender desperation, it could be nothing else.

Crowley hummed lowly in response and was rewarded with a jerk of hips that he steadied under his palms.

With the utmost care, he dragged his lips along the angel’s length, one hand curling along the base to match his movement. Underneath him, Aziraphale shuddered and gasped and made adorable squeaks when his breath caught. Crowley pressed his tongue to the underside of him and moved in just the way he knew the angel liked. 

When Aziraphale finally came, Crowley’s mouth was sore and tired, and he miracled away the mess with a lazy flick of fingers. Dragging himself back up the angel’s body, he skimmed light fingers along flushed skin to curl his hands beneath Aziraphale’s shoulders and press himself close.

Aziraphale’s hand found the back of his head and cradled him, warm and careful, as Crowley pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“You were beautiful, Crowley,” Aziraphale said in a voice wrung rough and low, and Crowley chuckled against his neck.

“So were you,” he murmured into the hollow beneath the angel’s ear, “beautiful, Angel.”

“Oh, Crowley,” said Aziraphale, pressing his lips into Crowley’s hair. Crowley felt the puff of his breath as he exhaled.

“You’re always beautiful, you know,” Crowley mumbled, nuzzling him, and Aziraphale’s other hand rubbed circles over his bare, freckled back, dappled by the sun. 

“I’d say the same for you,” said Aziraphale. 

In the warmth of the room, with the sunlight falling gold and bright through the window, hands stroked silken whispers against smooth skin. 

Aziraphale was soft beneath him, and he held Crowley so gently, as though he’d never wanted anything more. 

But really, who could dream of more than this?

**Author's Note:**

> hmm. i read something _bad_ angsty that i had to back out of because it hurt and it left me twisted up inside. i just craved some comfort after that, so this fic is for me. i simply needed them to love and cherish each other. no pain here,,, just love


End file.
